


Watashi no Chikai

by ReiraLayla



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: 1864-1868, Bakumatsu Era, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReiraLayla/pseuds/ReiraLayla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenshin has left his shishō to find his own path in life. Was it wise of him?Was it worth it to not listen to what his Master had told him? Now he will soon find himself under Katsura Kogoro's guidance... And the rain of blood that this will bring him will begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Departure and encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine.  
> Vocabulary:  
> Shishō: old way to address to the one who taught swordsmanship to a disciple.  
> Furoshiki: square of cloth used for carrying things.  
> Watashi no chikai: My vow  
> Ryū: Sword style, school of swordsmanship.  
> Ri: 2.4 miles.  
> Baka deshi: Foolish apprentice. That’s what Seijūrō Hiko usually called Kenshin while he was under his guidance.  
> Bakufu: shogunate.  
> Obi: a sash. The men’s obi is rather narrow, 10 centimeters (3.9 in) wide at most.  
> Iie: no.  
> Hakama: traditional Japanese clothing.  
> Hour of the Monkey: roughly, between 3 and 5 PM.  
> Sake: alcoholic beverage made from fermented rice.  
> Tsuka: hilt of the sword.  
> Ano…: “Um; Well”.  
> Gomen nasai: “I’m sorry”.  
> Hontō ni, sumimasen: “I’m truly sorry”.  
> Dōitashimashite: “My pleasure”.
> 
> A/N: This work is un-beta-ed.

**Watashi no chikai**

_By Reira-Layla_

**Chapter 1: Departure and encounter**

He didn’t look back. The words exchanged in the heat of the discussion still echoing in Kenshin’s head as his steps led him down the hideout that had given them the necessary privacy for his training. Seven years… Seven years of his life had been spent learning the ways of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryū.

He knew that it was selfish to run away, that maybe he should’ve tried to understand what his shishō was trying to tell him, to listen more carefully his advices, but… How could he stand by while all those people were suffering? How to idly await for the war to be over if he could do something to help? Besides, all of this was being made in hopes for a better life for the whole country, wasn’t it? What did it matter if the victory for the side he chose was guaranteed? All the better.

The young man left the hill with no more than what he was wearing. Not a furoshiki containing supplies, nothing. But he didn’t really care. He knew that there was a town not too far from there. He had gone down with shishō enough times to know the way by heart.

His eyebrows were furrowed, still in the bad mood the discussion had left him into. Well, wasn’t his fault if the man was mad at him. What if he was a baka deshi? He had called him that from the moment he had taken him in. That would make no difference, right?

But as his feet led him farther and farther from his master’s side, the guilty feeling was making his stomach twist and turn. He tried to convince himself that it was because he was hungry, making up excuses that the last meal he had had was very early that morning and hadn’t eaten since.

_Liar_ , a severe, husky voice called in his mind. Shishō’s voice. Couldn’t he leave him alone even when he was several ri apart from him? Kenshin shook his head, trying to shake that nagging voice that kept insisting for him to turn back, to climb up again and apologize. But he didn’t. He _wouldn’t_.

None of it made sense. Maybe it was because he was naïve and young, maybe because he was too stubborn. However, so was his shishō. How could someone overlook others’ suffering? His master also had his sword and his ryū, why would someone rather spend time teaching to another while people died and suffered from the bakufu’s oppression? He didn’t get it. He _couldn’t_ get it at all.

Kenshin’s hands clenched in fists, his knuckles turning white from the pressure and his nails digging in his skin. But he didn’t mind the pain, he rather welcomed it as a reminder of all the people he had lost up until now. His parents, his siblings, Akane, Sakura, Kasumi. He would not forget them. Ever. If he could do something for the people that were still suffering and if his skills could lead to a new era where fighting wasn’t anymore necessary… He would.

Of course it would’ve been better if shishō had given him his blessings, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d have to get over it.

There were too many things running through his mind and no way to stop his thoughts as they ran havoc. He was partly beginning to regret leaving as he had, but he was also determined to help as much as he could to bring the new era where no one would have to suffer anymore.

Night was falling upon him. Surely he wouldn’t be able to reach the village by the time the moon and stars would rise so he looked for a place where to settle down for the night, finding a small clearing in the woods. He found a big tree where he could lean on, grabbed his katana and sat down, resting it against the shoulder as he closed his eyes.

The wind and night had become slightly cold but was a pleasant feeling after so many days being so hot and humid. He opened his eyes as he rested his head against the trunk of the tree and his gaze watched as some clouds were driven above him. The moon was half full tonight and the stars were so bright… It seemed ever so mysterious to him. Even when there was war all around and people suffering, the sky was always so alien to all of it…

* * *

 

His eyes slowly fluttered open when the first rays of the morning light shone on his face. After so many days laying flat on the wooden floor of the small hut he and shishō lived in, the posture he had fallen sleep into made his back and neck ache the slightest bit. He moved his legs, stretching them in front of him as he tried to drive away the stiffness on his shoulders and back.

Kenshin looked around him as the colorful picture unfolded in front of his eyes. The dim early light was beginning to dye the shadows of the night in pale blues and soft orange and pink as the sun rose from the western point. The sound of the stream could be heard from where he was and with some luck he would be able to get a fish or two. That would serve as breakfast before he restarted his journey towards the nearby village and to his new destiny.

Standing up and putting the katana back into his obi, stretching his limbs to relief the tension on his muscles after so many hours sitting on the floor. At first, it had seemed a good idea. Not as much now, but it couldn’t be helped.

Kenshin let the noise of the stream guide him, carefully stepping on the leaf-covered floor of the forest. His hand on the hilt of his katana in case he needed to quickly unsheathe it to defend himself, even though it was unlikely for it to happen.

Along his way he retrieved a long fallen branch from a tree and tied a long thread to it so he could fish if he was lucky enough to find any. Once on the bank, he pulled the katana out of the obi and knelt down, leaving it beside him, close enough to reach for it but not too much so it wouldn’t disturb him. He pushed his hands in the water and splashed some of it on his face to wake up further, washing his hands as well. He looked around and found a couple of rocks not too far from where he was. A small smile tucked at his lips as he got to his feet, katana in hand, stick on the other and once he got there, proceeded to find some kind of bug that would serve as bait and when he found one sat down on the nearest rock to the stream and prayed for some food to bite.

His thoughts went back to the first time shishō had had him come down with him to learn how to fish.

_It was one of those hot and humid days. The sun was still rising on the horizon when his master burst into the hut and kicked him on the side to roughly wake him up. He was used to it by then, but it didn’t make him less annoyed._

_“Wake up, baka deshi!” he had yelled, harshly. “We have work to do.”_

_Kenshin groaned and pushed himself into a seated position, looking at his shishō with a stern look. How could someone that had taken him in be so mean? He didn’t know, didn’t understand but he swallowed his complaint. Nothing good would come out of it and it was impossible to reason with the man. Pushing the thin blanket off him he scrambled to his feet and went outside to wash his face._

_Once done he approached the older man._

_“What are we doing today, shishō?” he asked in a serious and low tone, always respectful even though he still felt moody after the way he’d been woken up._

_“Fishing. Unless you think you can spend the whole day without a meal.” Seijūrō Hiko’s brows raised, expectantly._

_“Iie. That’s fine,” Kenshin answered, arranging his hakama properly._

_“Alright, let’s go.”_

_While they were on their way down the hideout where they were staying, the both of them kept silent. Not a single word being spoken. As they reached the stream, shishō had turned towards him and handed him the hand-made pole._

_“You’ll have to find your own bait. There should be enough worms around the roots of the trees or under some rocks along the stream. You just need to put it in the hook and I’ll teach you how to fish.”_

_Grabbing the pole, Kenshin nodded and began his search for what he’d use as bait. It didn’t take him too long to get what he needed and once the worm was secured on the hook he turned towards his shishō._

_The man had been studying him the whole time, not a word being said and once the kid had it done, he nodded towards some rocks near the stream, signaling for him to follow. The youth did as he was told and once Hiko was sitting, so did Kenshin._

_“Pull the pole to your back and then push it forward. Like this,” the man said as he showed how it was done._

_It took him several tries until he got it right but no praise came from his master. Nothing._

A pull on his rode snapped him out of his memory and he began to roll the thread as he prayed for the fish not to escape or the thread to break as he tried to pull his breakfast out of the stream. It didn’t take him too long until the fish was hanging a couple feet above the water. His hand pushed forward to grab the thread and to get the fish on the rock beside him, which was jumping and thrashing desperately to get back in the water.

It wasn’t too big, but too small either, so it would make a good meal for now. He left the improvised pole right there and got up, pushing the katana back in the obi and the fish on his hand. He tracked his way back to the clearing and left the food a moment on the floor as he went to gather some stones and wood to start a fire to roast the fare.

* * *

 

Kenshin avoided the main road as much as he could. With all the chaos reigning in the country, he evaded as much trouble as possible. Bandits were running havoc and it was worse than seven years ago when he and the group of slavers he traveled with when he was sold by the village he used to live in, were attacked. He now knew how to defense himself but wasn’t as sure as to how to deal with people.

He had been isolated for these past years, his only company that of his shishō and sometimes their errands led them to the nearest villages and towns, but that had been all his contact with other human beings.

By now, his walking had reached a good rhythm. Now that he had had something to eat and knew it was morning, he could take his time to get to the village but he couldn’t stay forever in the forest. If he wanted to lend his powers as a swordsman he needed to hurry to help as many as he possibly could.

A sigh escaped his lips as he reached his forehead with his forearm and wiped the sweat off it. Damn, it was hot. Even though fall was near, the weather was still sticky. He slapped his face with both his hands to wake up. “Let’s do this,” he whispered as he began walking again.

His thoughts wandered back to that hill where he had left shishō. Would he be alright? True that he had been able to take care of himself before he had taken him in, but… what about now? Would he seek a new student for the Hiten Mitsurugi? Would he give up on teaching it to anyone else? Kenshin could only wonder.

By the hour of the Monkey he could get a glimpse of the silhouette of the village. He felt relieved but didn’t actually know if there would be some recruiter there. He could only hope and pray. If not, he’d have to get to the next town. He stopped short as he heard the sound of a dried out branch being stepped on and his right hand flew to the hilt of his katana, positioning himself in the battōjutsu stance in case he needed a quick draw.

His eyes were scanning the area, ready for any kind of attack that may befall him. The bushes nearby trembled.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” he snapped. As the bushes shook again, Kenshin clenched his teeth and his hand did the same against the hilt.

However, what jumped out of the bushes was just a rabbit. Kenshin sighed in relief and shook his head. Why was he so edgy? It wasn’t like he’d made any enemies up until now. But, honestly, nowadays you never knew what kind of trouble you could face.

He straightened up, his hand leaving the hilt to hang at his side. The animal raised its ears and watched him curiously before getting scared and running away at full speed.

The boy looked as the rodent disappeared and then restarted his way to Fushimi, the nearest town to his shishō’s hut. They had often gone there to get supplies of sake for him. In all honesty, he didn’t know how he could drink so much and still be able to teach him swordsmanship.

When the town was on his sight, he came out of the woods and onto the road. There wasn’t many people heading there, but didn’t pay much attention to it. Kenshin needed to find clues about where he had to go to get recruited and still felt a pang of guilt after leaving the way he did. However, he shook that thought aside and advanced.

It wouldn’t be easy. The “rebels” were kind of on the open, but also hidden. Once he got in town, Kenshin watched his surroundings, trying to figure out a way to ask without attracting unneeded attention. Both sides, the bakufu and the Shishi, knew about each other and he didn’t need the mistake to make himself noticed by the wrong people.

What to do, then?

“Hey, boy!” Kenshin turned his head towards the voice. Was he calling for him? “Are you a rōnin?”

The red-haired boy looked at the small group for a moment. Was he a _rōnin_? Well, probably he was. He was wielding a katana and wasn’t under any daimyo’s guidance.

“Ano… I think I am, o-samurai-san,” he answered, his left hand going automatically to the tsuka of the katana. It was more a precaution than a threat.

“What are you looking for?” the man asked, impressed with the politeness of the kid. For him to be a rōnin, he had manners.

“Depends who’s asking.” Kenshin had to be careful. If he wanted to help the Bakumatsu, he couldn’t get caught by the bakufu.

“Takasugi.”

_Takasugi…? He’s…_

“Gomen nasai,” he apologized as he bowed low. Well, he found what he was looking for. What a lucky day. “Hontō ni, sumimasen.”

“Iie. More importantly, would you mind if we had a talk?” Takasugi said as he made a gesture for him to follow them.

“Dōitashimashite,” he answered, bowing again. He straightened up and began following the small group.


	2. Initial Training

**Vocabulary:**

_Geta:_ wooden sandals

_Engawa:_ the typically wooden strip of flooring immediately before windows and storm shutters inside traditional Japanese rooms.

_Shōji:_ door, window or room divider made of translucent paper over a frame of wood which holds together a lattice of wood or bamboo.

_Sō ka?:_ “Is that so?”

_Zabuton:_ floor cushion.

_Dōzo:_ Please.

_Go yōsha?:_ Pardon?

_Hai:_ Yes.

_Wakarimashita:_ “I understand.”

_Dōmo arigatō gozaimashita:_ “Thank you” (very polite).

_Shitsurei shimasu:_ “Excuse me”.

_Torētēburu:_ Tray table that stand as high as 30 centimeters (about 12 inches). Formal form of a _zen_ (simple wooden tray).

_Hashi:_ chopsticks.

_Hajimemashite:_ Nice to meet you.

_Tsuka:_ hilt of the sword.

_Saya:_ sheath of the sword.

_Andon:_ a wood and rice paper covered light that sits on the floor.

_Yare-yare:_ “Well, well.”

_Ah, sō desu ne?:_ Is that right?

_Mōshiwake arimasen:_ “I have no excuse. I’m sorry.”

_Sumimasen:_ “I’m sorry.”

**Chapter 2: Initial Training**

It was a quiet walk. All of the samurai kept their heads up, their eyes scouting the surroundings as they walked towards wherever they were taking him. He was sure that it would be some kind of training center. He didn’t believe that they would just recruit anyone for this war that was unprepared.

Once they left the main streets where the marketplace was and arrived to the samurai houses, Kenshin felt slightly uncomfortable. Of course Takasugi-san would live in a place like this. Kenshin stopped when the rest did in front of the gates to what seemed an average samurai house. The doors were opened by a couple of guards and they led him in.

Inside, the rest of the men scattered to mind their own business. Takasugi talked briefly with another samurai and then turned to him. “Come with me, please. I’ve got some questions for you.”

The red-haired boy bowed and followed the man. They both took their geta off, leaving them on the ground as they stepped under the engawa as one of Takasugi’s servants came and opened the shōji so they could step in. The man asked her to bring them some tea and as she bowed, slid the door shut again and Kenshin could hear her steps as she went to get what she’d been asked.

“Have a seat,” Takasugi said, signaling him the zabuton that lay in front of the small table as the other one was occupied by the man.

Kenshin took off the katana from the obi and knelt down, bowing before settling in front of his host. He felt slightly uncomfortable and out of place there, but that had been what he was looking for.

“So…” Takasugi began, looking the kid thoroughly, as if he was examining, studying him. “What’s your name? I don’t think calling you ‘boy’ or ‘kid’ will be polite.”

The red-haired young man could feel his cheeks flushing and hoped it wouldn’t show.

“Kenshin. Himura Kenshin,” he said.

“Sō ka?” He saw as Takasugi brought one hand to his chin and rubbed it slightly, as if he was deep in thought. “Family?”

The red-head knew what did that mean. His background.

“I’ve got no family, Takasugi-san,” he admitted. The feeling of uneasiness grew wider. He didn’t regret to have lived through the cholera, but it still hurt to remember how all of his family had left him alone.

“I see,” the man nodded, but before he could ask anything else, they heard a small rattling on the shōji and it slid open to reveal the woman he had seen earlier. She bowed and as Takasugi made a gesture for her to come in and serve the tea, she did as she was told, bowing again before exiting and closing it again. “Dōzo.”

They both took a sip at the tea and Kenshin felt as if it was okay for him to relax a little. It wasn’t like he was in the enemy’s house, but neither were they friends.

“I can see you’re young,” the man began as he left the cup of tea on the table again. “And you’re carrying just a katana.”

“Hai.” Kenshin’s hand went to the saya by instinct. “My shishō gave it to me.” He had been afraid that his Master would have asked it back during their discussion, but he didn’t and he was kind of grateful for it.

“May I ask what style you’ve learned?”

The boy had seen it coming. He straightened his back. “Hiten Mitsurugi Ryū, Takasugi-san.” His answer was straightforward. No sweet-talking, not hiding this fact. He didn’t have to be ashamed. He knew he had left the lessons way too early and that he hadn’t mastered the style fully, but in his eyes, it was enough.

Takasugi’s expression was one of astonishment.

“Go yōsha?” he said, looking at him as if he had misheard it. “Unbelievable…”

Kenshin didn’t really know how to take that reaction. Neither did he know if the style his shishō had taught him was that known or that powerful.

“Ano…” he said in a very polite tone.

“Oh, forgive me.” Takasugi smiled the slightest bit as he retrieved the cup of tea to take another sip. The man had heard rumors about this. However, he’d heard that there could only be one person knowing the style and that once all the teachings were passed about, its apprentice had to take on the name of the teacher, and he was fairly sure that it wasn’t ‘Himura Kenshin’. Nevertheless, if this kid had learned not all, but most of it, he could be a great ally. “Well, we can’t get you right into the fighting,” the man said. “You’ll have to train and proof yourself first.”

“Wakarimashita,” Kenshin answered, bowing his head.

He was expecting this much. It wasn’t like he’d get here and would be put into fighting right away. It was bothersome but it couldn’t be helped. Besides, he would’ve felt offended if he’d had been treated specially.

“I’ll have someone show you around. This place is small compared to where I usually stay, down at Hagi, but it serves its purpose.”

“Dōmo arigatō gozaimashita.”

“Matsuoka!” The shōji slid the slightest bit as a man appeared behind it kneeling on the floor.

“You called, Takasugi-san?” he said.

“Show Himura-san around the place. Get him a futon and get him to the training grounds,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

“Shitsurei shimasu,” Kenshin said as he bowed. He reached for his katana and stood up to follow the man that had come to pick him up.

* * *

 

As the night came, all of the men gathered there, headed for one of the rooms where they were served their dinner. It was more than what he had had while with his shishō, but he was tired and hungry. He sat down as the torētēburu were being placed in front of them.

He gave his thanks for the food in silence and grabbed for the hashi as one of the women poured rice into his bowl.

Kenshin could feel several eyes on him and the low voices whispering, probably discussing why a kid like him was there. He didn’t really mind it at all. It wasn’t like he was there looking for trouble. He was one of the men that had decided to help with this so-called Revolution, nothing more and nothing less.

The boy bowed as a thank you to the woman that placed his rice bowl back on his tray and began to eat. The training was hard, but not as hard as it used to be with his shishō. However, it was nice and it prevented his abilities to rot.

Of course he preferred to be alone. He had been on his own, with the only company of the man that had took him in… and now he was so uncomfortable having so many people around him that he felt too jumpy and on edge.

Kenshin was trying his best to mind his own business, to ignore the hushed mumbles and the sneaking stares that came his way. Of course it wasn’t easy but he had to endure this. It wasn’t pleasant to know that they were talking about him, though. It wasn’t like he was the only young recruit, was it?

“Isn’t he too young to be samurai?” he heard someone saying.

“What is Takasugi-san thinking?” another added. “We need strong people, not children.”

The red-haired’s hand clenched around his hashi, the wooden chopsticks making a loud sound as he forced them to slam together. His other hand flew to his katana. If they didn’t stop bothering him with their nonsense he’d have to show them just how fast and strong he was and that would be an offense towards their guest.

Just when he was unsheathing the blade, a hand landed on his.

“Don’t mind them. They don’t know any manners. They’ve been ronin for some time now and having some kind of lord is wearing them off.”

Violet eyes lifted to be greeted by another pair of dark brown ones, a small apologetic smile on the other man’s lips.

“They could keep their comments to themselves, that they should.” Kenshin’s answer was blunt and loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

Everyone went silent. The shame irradiating from those who had been whispering about him could be felt hanging in the air and the young boy felt the slightest of satisfaction. At least now they knew he’d been hearing it. Not like he was eavesdropping, though.

“My name’s Yuuta, Kusanagi Yuuta,” the man that had saved him said, extending his hand. Kenshin shook it.

“Kenshin. Himura Kenshin,” he answered.

“Hajimemashite, Himura-san.” The red-haired felt slightly odd. Having someone show some kind of respect towards him and not quiet the other way around was so strange. That had never happened to him before. But, then again, in these past years everyone he had met were older than him.

Once he finished his meal, Kenshin placed the hashi back on the tray and bowed in a thank you for the food he’d been given and grabbed for his katana and rose to his feet. He was dead tired. He’d trained all the time, despite the fact that it hadn’t been as hard as when he was with his shishō. He excused himself with his new ‘friend’ and headed for the shared dorm all the men were staying in. He sat down on the futon they had prepared for him, leaving his weapon close enough so he could reach for it if he needed to and lied on the thin mattress.

He would be lying if he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable. He was used to the hard, bumpy floor of his master’s hood and now to lay there, on a slightly more comfortable place was making feel uneasy, not to mention the fact that he didn’t know anything from anyone. Someone could try to sneak on him and kill him, for all he knew.

It didn’t take too long for the others to fill in the rest of the spots. Some were chitchatting nearby; others just covered themselves up to their heads and drifted to sleep. But something felt slightly off. The feeling of peril in his gut wouldn’t leave his eyes close for too long.

Kenshin sat down. Most, if not all, of the men were fast asleep. He couldn’t tell for sure. He grabbed his katana and moved out of the futon to stand near the window. There he rested his back against the frame, his katana against his shoulder, a hand on the tsuka and the other around the saya.

Just when he was finally falling asleep, his senses warned him that something was wrong. His eyes flew open as he positioned himself to unsheathe the katana. He was too fast, the attacker had almost no time to stop the strike with their own sword. The clashing of steel echoed off the walls as his opponent fell on his butt, panting.

“What…?!” Some of the men that were in the room sat abruptly on their futons as someone lightened the andon. Footsteps could be heard outside as the shōji was opened wide.

The red-haired was now standing, kissaki pointing at the other man’s throat.

“What’s going on here?” Takasugi asked. The other men had their hands on the hilts of their katana, ready to strike if needed.

“Why did you try to attack me?” Kenshin’s voice was cold, his eyes fixated on the man sprawled in front of him on the floor, his katana was beside him and his grip on it had loosened.

“Yare-yare…” Takasuki rubbed his face. “Ah, sō desu ne?” he asked to the unknown man.

As the man seemed to not want to answer, the owner of the house sighed. “Both of you, come with me. Himura-san, please sheathe your sword. It won’t be necessary.”

“I’m sorry,” he said as he put the katana back into the saya and placed it in the obi, moving forward to follow Takasugi out of the room with a lot of eyes following his every movement.

The other man didn’t take too long to get out of the shock and follow them out.

Once the door to Takasugi’s private room was closed, the man that tried to attack Kenshin bowed low.

“Mōshiwake arimasen!” he said.

Kenshin just watched him. Why would someone even try to attack other recruits? Weren’t they supposed to be fighting for the same goals?

“Why have you done this?” the older man asked as he sat down before the small table placed in the corner of the room.

“I… I…”

“Is for what I said back when we were eating?” Kenshin interrupted “It wasn’t too polite of all of you to be talking about someone in their back. If you wanted to know something, why not come and ask directly instead of guessing and badmouthing your guest?”

Takasugi’s brow furrowed. “Is that true?” His voice was authoritarian, sharp, judging.

“Sumimasen.”


End file.
